As you step into the dimly lit Sleeping Giant Inn, the familiar warmth of the hearth washes over you. Ognar waves from behind the counter, already pouring your usual ale. You take a seat, savoring the moment, when something catches your eye—a note pinned to the counter by a dagger.

Curiosity gets the better of you. You tug it free and, by the soft lighting glow of the tavern’s candles, read its message:

"The Jarl calls upon all able-bodied men and women. A dragon has been spotted near the Whitewatch Tower. Your help is needed at Dragonsreach. Time is of the essence."

What do you do?

1. Order another round of ale.

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Ognar slides a fresh mug toward you with a smirk. “Saving Whiterun can wait, eh?” You chuckle, taking a long drink as Faendal joins you at the counter.
“Another dragon, huh?” Faendal mutters, slurring slightly. “Bet I could handle it better than you, eh?”
One thing leads to another, and soon you find yourself locked in a brawl with the Bosmer. Tables are overturned, chairs broken, and Ognar shouts, “That’s it! Out with you both!”
Bruised and tipsy, you stumble out into the crisp night air. Rubbing your jaw, you grumble, “Might as well head to Whiterun. I’ve got a dragon to deal with.”

2. Heed the call to action.

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Without hesitation, you grab your iron sword from its resting place beside your chair and toss a few septims on the counter.
“Heading out already?” Ognar asks.
“No time to waste,” you reply, pushing open the tavern door. The chill of the night air greets you as you step into the quiet streets of Riverwood, the majestic canopy of trees swaying gently above.
You take a deep breath and head down the road toward Whiterun.

The crisp northern air fills your lungs as you follow the winding path to Whiterun. The quiet is interrupted by a low, guttural growl. Emerging from the shadows of the trees are two wolves, their eyes glinting hungrily in the fading light. They charge.

What do you do?

1. Circle slowly in a combat stance.

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You draw your sword, steadying your breath as you adopt a defensive stance. The first wolf lunges, but you pivot to the side, narrowly avoiding its jaws. You slash downward, your blade moving with precision. The wolf yelps and retreats into the shadows.
The second wolf hesitates, its growl faltering. You lock eyes with the beast, and after a tense moment, it slinks away, disappearing into the trees.
Breathing heavily, you sheath your sword. “Not tonight,” you mutter, continuing your journey.

2. Charge aggressively with a battle cry.

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Fueled by ale and bravado, you let out an earth-shaking, slurred war cry: “FOR THE JARRRRLL!” You stagger forward, waving your sword wildly. The first wolf sidesteps your attack with ease, its sharp eyes tracking your every clumsy movement.
Off balance, you lurch forward, nearly toppling over. The second wolf seizes the moment, lunging for your leg. With a panicked swing, you manage to graze its flank, startling it into retreat.
The wolves pause, exchanging wary glances. After a tense moment, they both decide you’re not worth the effort and slink back into the shadows, leaving you triumphant—if a bit disheveled.
Wiping dirt (and perhaps a bit of ale foam) from your chin, you grin to yourself. “Still got it,” you mutter, swaying slightly as you press onward toward Whiterun.

The path ahead leads you through the sprawling tundra, a landscape that unfolds like a painter’s masterpiece. The brown and yellow grasses ripple gently in the wind, dotted with wildflowers that add subtle bursts of color. The tranquil beauty almost distracts you from your aching feet—and the faint buzz of ale still lingering in your head.

The towering walls of Whiterun grow closer, standing strong and imposing against the backdrop of the open plains. At the gates, a lone guard stands watch, spear in hand and helmet slightly tilted, as though he’s been standing there all night. He notices your approach and adjusts his posture.

“Halt! State your business in Whiterun,” he commands, his tone neutral but firm.

What do you do?

1. Tell him about the dragon near Whitewatch Tower.

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“A dragon’s been spotted, and I’m here to help!” you announce, standing as tall as your weary legs will allow.
The guard raises an eyebrow. “You? You look like you just lost a fight with a goat.”
“Wolves,” you correct him indignantly, brushing dirt off your armor. “And I didn’t lose—technically.”
He shrugs. “Good enough for Whiterun. Go on in.”

2. Feign urgency to skip the questioning (Convince.)

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“I don’t have time for questions,” you bark, channeling your inner Thane. “Lives are at stake!”
The guard blinks, taken aback. “Uh… alright, go ahead.” He steps aside, muttering, “I swear, everyone’s a hero these days.”

As you pass through the gates, Whiterun’s bustling streets greet you with their familiar chaos. Traders haggle loudly at the market stalls, children dash between carts, and the smell of grilled leeks wafts through the air. You pause for a moment, taking it all in, before setting your sights on Dragonsreach in the distance.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, one thing is certain: you’re here, you’re ready (mostly), and Whiterun won’t forget the hero who came to answer the call—no matter how drunk you might still be.